


i'm a huge fan(g) of you

by beaubcxton



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/F, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19384849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaubcxton/pseuds/beaubcxton
Summary: Ginny nods, the answer not fazing her in the slightest. She’s gotten rather used to strange and unexpectedly sentimental conversations with her favorite customer every morning on Tuesday.“Right.” Sadly, she gets distracted by the plethora of freckles adoring her customer’s cheek, each dot arranged as if they were supposed to depict a constellation. Her voice rises louder than she hoped it would be. “Well, as long as you’re alright. I hope you have a good day!”“Meeting you was the highlight of my day.” Luna assures her, a garden of roses blooming on her cheeks, as if she had no consideration for Ginny’s heart rate. “I’m sure I’ll have the best day, thank you.





	i'm a huge fan(g) of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marauuders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauuders/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Alice! I love you so much and I hope this fic makes you smile, at the very least. You're an icon x

 

A dream is a wish your heart makes.

Ginny loved to dream. Sometimes, she would dream about flying — and hoped that she could manage that feat, at least in a multiverse  — or, imagined being a pilot, instead of playing the role of a barista. Mostly her dreams were on the perimeter of fantasy, as she often imagined herself in a relationship with Luna Lovegood.

 _Ha_ ! As if _that_ could ever happen. 

There were a lot of things she gave herself credit for — she was an amazing chef who could whip up a three-course meal fit for Gordon Ramsay with just a simple blender, could even perform the act of ballet with exceptional skill and once, stayed up for forty-eight hours. However, her ability to communicate with Luna — only the most beautiful and kindest person in all the universes created — was nothing short of ridiculous.

What happened to the girl who was crowned Prom Queen and ‘Most Likely To Be Going Places’? That girl was going _somewhere_. The only future Present Ginny had was a future of pathetic smiles thrown towards Luna.  

There were too many examples pointing towards this conclusion. 

For one, she kept giving herself heart attacks as she attempted to rush to the counter every time she heard Luna’s voice — the voice of a siren out for her heart. Or, there were times when she made an utter fool of herself and spilled coffee on her very apron — granted she was lovesick, but still. 

“Would you like anything else?” Ginny says, now trying not to sound overly excited at the prospect of spending more time with this girl. “Perhaps, some extra sugar?” 

To support her previous statement, Luna sends her a smile in the way that sent her heart fluttering madly, channelling the motion of a butterfly taking off, and she nearly melted. 

At work! The _audacity_ of this (beautiful, charming, and wonderful) girl. 

Falling in love in a coffee shop is the very epitome of cliché, something out of a movie, really.

And, yet she's hopeless to stop it. Somehow, the highlight of her day is brewing a cup of coffee which perhaps was a given indication on how morose her life was, or she may just be a fan of refined taste. 

There are times when Luna sits at a table and pulls out her literature textbooks. And, other times when she simply glided away so quickly that one wondered if she was merely an apparition. Or, a wonderfully drawn out hallucination.

It was a coupe de foudre — ever since Luna had burst into her life with a shower of rainbows, cookies and everything blessed in the world. 

She’d said, “I’ll have mine de-coffin-ated.” on that cold morning, the same morning Ginny thought of quitting the coffee shop, and there was a horrible moment where her heart twisted in fear that Luna had discovered her secret, but then with that brilliant smile, all her thoughts were shoved in a garbage bin, and thrown all away to a recycling plant far away. 

If anyone were to ask why she continued to work at  _Bijou préféré_ , she’d maintain the answer that she loved her little quaint coffee shop, the benefits were exceptional, and the atmosphere was fantastic. 

The truth was very simple. She was lucky enough to see her _favorite_ person. 

The funniest addition was that she had known Luna for _ages._ They had been best friends, it would seem, when they were in preschool but somehow, they had lost touch when Luna went to study abroad for six years. 

And, when she got back, Ginny was too shy, much too infatuated to say anything but absolute rubbish. 

Luna takes the cup from the counter, pale slender fingers wrapping around the cup and steps away, just in time for a ray of light to strike her eyes, making them even more wondrous than usual, like shards of crystal. “You’re exceptionally kind, but I’m afraid that I don’t require anything at the moment.” 

It’s rather ridiculous and sad that Ginny experienced jealousy of a cup — a cup! — at that precise moment but shrugs it off in favour of a shrug. “Well, if you need anything, just let me know. I’ll see you around then, yeah?” 

Luna looks almost disappointed to leave — which she finds difficult to believe and wonders if her hallucinating brain had conjured up the image. “You might. Fate is a funny thing; you might see me again today, you might never see me again.” 

Ginny nods, the answer not fazing her in the slightest. She’s gotten rather used to strange and unexpectedly sentimental conversations with her favorite customer every morning on Tuesday. 

“Right.” Sadly, she gets distracted by the plethora of freckles adoring her customer’s cheek, each dot arranged as if they were supposed to depict a constellation. Her voice rises louder than she hoped it would be. “Well, as long as you’re alright. I hope you have a good day!” 

“Meeting you was the highlight of my day.” Luna assures her, a garden of roses blooming on her cheeks, as if she had no consideration for Ginny’s heart rate. “I’m sure I’ll have the best day, thank you. 

And, out the door she went, her radish earrings bouncing from her shoulder being the last thing Ginny sees of her for that morning.  

* * *

There were three sorts of people in this world. 

The first category belonged to sensible people. These were the ones who everyone envied, discreetly or not, for it was only them who could have ascertained a degree in the art of seduction and expressed it remarkably well. Regular mortals could only dream of achieving the level of perfectly saturated dialogue, and the practised ease of being partly composed, and partly cocky. Fiction wrote them to be tricksters who managed to elite a passion, unlike any other, from the coldest of humans. 

Flirting, it would seem, was a language few were fluent in. 

The second category belonged to the people who simply wished to contain the universe in their trembling hands, who appeared sunkissed and fell in love with the lazy patterns of the water, the rays of sunshine striking a particular blade of grass. They would dream up stories, sing stumbling yet soft ballads, and wish upon the stars.

The third category belonged to the granted. Their economic status was hardly the pressing issue for the lack of sensitivity, but rather an acquired bland taste in romanticism. They insisted on partaking in activities which involved courting under the presence of alcohol. They were a ghost who haunted each home they stole, their false declarations seemingly corresponding to a heartbeat. 

Ginny, if it was possible, was a whole category by herself. 

Despite having little to no experience with her gender — at least, in the romantic sense — she envisioned a future with a little Weasley, perhaps, a cottage, secluded in the thicket that a forest can bring, facing the mountains with a fireplace and a garden in the background, thrumming with the most wondrous and loveliest of flowers, which she would gladly place in her wife’s hair. 

And, while these dreams were certainly echoed in the sentiments of many like-minded people, Ginny was absolute in the assumption that there was no one as _awkward_ and _embarrassing_ as her. 

If the abstract could be sold in the marketplace, she’d purchase buckets of composure. 

Normal people bought _flowers_  or _chocolates_ in a means to capture the other person’s attention. 

In true fashion, Ginny choose to bleed her way to death on the love of her life’s floor, clearly, a foolproof method to capture Luna’s attention — and make her realize how utterly gross she was. 

Go figure. She had never been more embarrassed in her _life_. 

Granted, she wasn’t losing that much of blood; she had just got into a scuffle with someone who wanted to kill her — common vampire traditions, nothing of importance — but vampires were rather anaemic so even a paper cut could be considered fatal. 

How was she supposed to know that the person eyeing the carton of blood stored nicely in the supermarket was, in fact, a vampire? And, not just a regular middle-aged woman who simply wanted her subsistence for aesthetic purposes, or worse a prank? 

There were two things Ginny planned on Luna never having the misfortune learning; how awkward she was, and her nightly routines; that being her performing regular vampire duties like any sensible adult would do. 

“Oh.” She had simply said as if the word conveyed the plethora of feelings that one usually experiences when they notice their barista clutching their abdomen, and floating in mid-air right outside one’s bedroom window. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” She had responded automatically, even though she was pretty sure fainting was on her agenda for the evening. 

 _Nice_ , she had thought in horror. _If I fall, I’m going to hit the ground. At least, I can tell Luna I fell for her. Literally._

“Normally, I wouldn't ask but could you invite me in?”

Luna dutifully responded, and tickled her fingers as she brings her to the living room. “Ginny Weasley, I allow you to enter my home and to use it as your own.” 

Currently, Ginny allows herself to watch Luna disappear through an archway, and perhaps, it was the wrong time to ponder such an observation but she could hardly resist the thought and amazement on the fact that Luna was so _pretty_. Luna was the kind of pretty that made her heart ache, simply by glancing at her person, as if the magnitude of her divinity was too much for one little vampire to bear. 

It shouldn’t baffle her when Luna comes back, now holding a carton filled with a concoction whose scent resembled that of blood, but it does to the point where Ginny stares for ten whole seconds without making any sort of movements to grab the cup obviously meant for her. 

“I brought blood from the store for you. Unfortunately, I had a hard time trying to convince people to give me donated blood without certificates but I thought that if you ever dropped by, you wouldn’t leave hungry.” 

Her kindness startles her. “You  — how could you have possibly known?” 

“You didn’t really make it a secret.” Luna responds matter of factly, nudging the mug and smiling when it was finally accepted. “I knew you were a vampire ever since I met you. The number of codwallis on your head spoke for itself. They’re always around extremely powerful beings. And, you’re the strongest vampire of your generation, aren’t you?” 

This was not how she imagined impressing Luna would be like. “I’m — er — decent. Did I leave any clues besides that? You didn’t tell anyone, did you?” 

A soft breathy laugh echoes in their tiny hall. “People choose to see what they want to see. I wouldn’t care to force people to see the world as it is. As for the clues, you did leave a lot.”

Ginny doesn’t respond for a while, instead choosing to hiss as a brush of air offers pinpricks of pain. “Is it because I wear hats all the time?” 

“I suppose that’s a prime example, though it is useful that you can be seen in mirrors. Not many people know that a vampire can see their reflection in today’s mirrors, which are backed up with aluminium, that is. It’s only mirrors with silver that pose a problem, right?” Luna murmurs seemingly lost in thought. “Quite a lot of people simply take old mythology as modern day fiction. Do you need me to bandage that wound?”

“I’m fine, thank you. Vampires have super healing, so it’ll be stitched by itself soon enough.” And, before the warning bells start ringing, she says, “This is so ridiculous. Not you, of course but I just find it horrifying to even think of today’s events. I can’t believe I nearly passed out on my customer’s floor.” 

“It’s alright, really.” Her companion mysteriously announces, gliding towards a sofa and bringing back a pillow, and the thought is fleeting, random even but in another world, Ginny imagines Luna to be a fairy who always tinkered into people’s lives, spreading brightness and happiness since she was the very epitome of it. “You can think of me as a friend, rather than a customer, if it makes you feel better. And, if you had to pass out, I’m happy it happened here.” 

And, then as if the strange, albeit wonderful compliment isn’t enough for her heart to soar to Asgard and beyond, Luna concludes the statement by propping her head on a pillow and begins to run her hands through Ginny’s hair, certainly in a poor attempt of consolation for there she was, dying and it had nothing to do with the aching chasm in her stomach, but more so the chasm in her heart.  

It’s a stupid answer. If one of her older brothers were here, they’d probably say something flirty ― well, with the exception of Ron and Percy anyway.

“Me too.” She whispers, suddenly feeling very young and hesitantly meets Luna’s bright blue eyes. “I know it’s not much, but thank you.” 

Her responding grin is like the rainbow after a storm. “It’s worth everything. Words change worlds.” 

Ginny shifts and faces Luna ― close enough to kiss, close enough to pretend, close enough that she can count the stars she observed earlier today, each freckle, each scar. 

In another universe, Ginny Weasley simply smiles, shuts her eyes and the pair drifts off, limbs awkwardly tangled together.

In yet another one, Luna bandages Ginny’s wounds and presses a kiss onto her stomach, a catalyst to heal the wound, she would say.

A flash of a future of Ginny stumbling into her own home, collapsing as the pain from the wound strikes her. In that one, she thinks she’s dumb to have not stopped earlier and got help from Luna but comforts herself with the knowledge that she didn't bleed to death on her customer's floor. 

Perhaps, if she knew the trail that particular future would have intended, she would have made a different choice.

There are flashes of futures spinning through Ginny’s head -- the one who’s staring at Luna with nothing but affection blooming in her heart like roses grinning at the sun at the very onset of spring, the slightest brush of the rising dawn.

In all of them, she knows there isn't one future where she isn't hopelessly, ardently in love. 

_Does this change anything?_

“Would you mind telling me more about vampires? I’ve always found them terribly fascinating.” 

“Yeah? Well, I don't know about all vampires but I might be sort of in love with you.” Ginny says with this newfound knowledge, the curtain finally cast to bring in something beautiful. There’s nothing but aching bravery in her throat right now. 

“That’s nice to know.” Luna responds, not even a flicker of surprise present on her face, and a smile clear in her voice like a sunrise peeking behind the clouds. “Because I’m very in love with you.” 

 


End file.
